


First Floor

by Musicandjason



Series: The house of Holmes and Lestrade [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: All The Love, M/M, Masturbation, More Fluff, Moving In Together, Some fighting, but greg loves him, mycroft is a stubborn old git, sort of voyerism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musicandjason/pseuds/Musicandjason
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft and Greg's relationship progresses and gets more serious, but not without its bumps along the way</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my Mycroft&Greg series. This one comes after Foundations, and before Rebuild. It will have three parts!

Greg’s body was slowly lulled out of sleep and into full consciousness by his alarm, being emitted from his piece of shit cellphone that was resting on Mycroft’s bedside table. Greg’s bedside table? It was on his side of the bed at least. Perhaps that gave Greg partial ownership then. And that would mean that it was probably the most expensive thing that he owned, even if it was only half. Greg decided that he needed to stop thinking so metaphorically this early in the morning. It hurt his old man brain. He hit snooze on his phone and planned to ignore the world for nine more minutes; that was until a warm soft arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him tight against his lover, Mycroft Holmes.

“Mycroft? I thought you would be gone by now.” Greg settled his body against the taller and lankier man, enjoying the intimate touch that they rarely got in the morning. Greg’s alarm went off at 6:45 in the morning, and it was rare for him to wake up with Mycroft still in bed, instead of finding him hunched (or as hunched as the perfectly postured man could be) over a laptop in his study, doing his pre-work for the day, before leaving for the office.

“Who else would you be sharing our bed with?” Mycroft mocked anger is rare jest, and kissed along Greg’s hairline and towards his always sunburnt ears. For a place that never seemed too sunny, London had a way of constantly causing the Detective Inspector’s ears quite a bit of sun damage. The use of personal pronoun that Mycroft had used to describe the sprawling four poster California king that the two men were currently occupying only served to make Greg revisit his earlier thoughts. Did Mycroft really believe that he had partial state in it, even though he hadn’t worked for any of it. The thought of Mycroft giving him partial ownership made Greg’s heart beat out of synch. Things had started to get pretty serious over the last couple months.

“Normally my other boyfriend sneaks in once you’re in your office.” Greg snorted loudly, completely ruining the romantic mood that his partner was trying to get started. The thought that he would even be able to sneak someone in under Mycroft’s nose was laughable. He didn’t think that anyone would be able to sneak someone into England without the younger man knowing. Mycroft chuckled softly to signal that he was aware that Greg was kidding, and Greg was glad for that. In the beginning Mycroft had an issue with understanding sarcasm and it has caused a few hurt feelings.  Greg had to dial everything back in the beginning, concerned that his good natured jesting would ruin things before they ever really got started.

“Oh, shall I go then? I thought taking a few hours off this morning to spend with my sexy boyfriend would be nice, but perhaps this is something else I misunderstood.” Mycroft’s lips ceased their ministrations for a moment and it appeared that he was more than happy to just breathe in the air that caressed Greg’s grey hair and beautiful skin. Greg found it incredible sweet. And hot. The fact that Mycroft like his body was not just him was a huge turn on. And a boost to his self-confidence. Greg knew that he was over the hill, a bit soft in the middle, and by no means classy enough to be anywhere near the man that he had been dating for the last few months, but luckily Mycroft disagreed.

“No, I told him not to come around this morning. Figured I would be too busy jacking off while I thought about this lovely bloke I know. Tall, auburn hair, great dresser? Maybe you know him. He’s around here sometimes. Normally looks like he hasn’t slept. Smiles sometimes?” Greg grinned widely, but kept his eyes closed. Early on, Greg had realized that Mycroft had a masturbation kink and he always did his best to indulge it whenever he could. The last time they had had a chance, Greg had jacked Mycroft off on the way home from a dinner party. They had been dressed in white tie and tails, with Mycroft’s pants open just enough for him to be exposed, with Mycroft moaning his name in the back seat of the town car as it whipped through the streets of London.

“Is that so? I wouldn’t want to keep you from that…” Mycroft trailed off and he appeared to be holding his breath. Greg slowly ran his left hand down his chest, not bothering to stop at his nipples, which were early the most sensitive and erogenous part of his body. He knew that Mycroft would take care of that given the chance. Greg adored when his lover would join in, helping bring him swiftly to orgasm in a truly intimate way. Truth be told, he loved this more than he loved penetrative sex. Less work, more touching.

Greg knew that this foray into self-pleasure would to fairly quick. His morning wanks always were, and if he knew Mycroft was watching him as intently as he was, it was destined to be even quicker. He wrapped his rough fingers around the base of his cock and jerked in a few hard, fast thrusts. These motions took him right to the edge already and he was barely able to whisper Mycroft’s name in a choked voice, signalling for his help. Mycroft’s experience with the older man led him to know exactly what he wanted. Mycroft’s slender fingers reached quickly to Greg’s nipples and tweaked the oversensitive flesh roughly. This sent Greg over the edge, bucking his hips into his hand and coming roughly. Mycroft breathed heavy in his ear at the sight and Greg knew that Mycroft had just done the same thing.

“Mmm…Myc.” Greg’s breath caught in post coital bliss, when he realized that he has shortened Mycroft’s name. he chose to pretend it didn’t happen, and hoped it wouldn’t make Mycroft mad. Mycroft turned over, and reached into his bedside table and grabbed a wet wipe, which he kept on hand for just this occasion.

Mycroft cleared his throat dramatically and motioned to Greg. The older man smiled when he realized that Mycroft had not offered him a wet wipe (he hated the smell of them) and had instead motioned for him to go to the en suite to clean up. Greg swung his legs out of the large bed, and walked into the bathroom. Once he had cleaned himself up sufficiently he looked in the mirror. He needed a haircut, and he had neglected to shave in a few days. He was doing an experiment of sorts, to take a page out of Sherlock’s book. He was waiting to see how long it would take for Mycroft to bring up how unkempt and common Greg looked. So far, so good. He wasn’t sure how Mycroft would feel about having so common in his life, but occasionally Greg liked to grow a beard, so he needed this vital information.

“Do we have time to stay in bed for a bit? Or do we have to get up?” Greg asked, sounding a bit like a child, especially yelling in from the bathroom. He had found that even though Mycroft was younger, his power (and his poshness) often made Greg defer to his judgement. From small things, like where they should have dinner, to bigger things, like what sort of car Greg should upgrade to. Greg was okay with it, most of the time.

“Come back to bed, Gregory. There is a matter of importance that I would like to talk to you about.” Mycroft sounded perfectly calm and relaxed so that made Greg sound a bit less concerned. Although he suspected that Mycroft could declare war on the rest of the world, and wouldn’t even break a sweat. Scratch that, he could declare war on the world, and not even spill his tea.

Greg padded back into the bedroom, letting his bare feet sink into the plush brown carpeting. The room was giant, easily the size of a large part of Greg’s flat, with two large leather armchairs, a round coffee table, and a walk in closet that would rival Windsor Castle. The chairs were Greg’s favorite part of the house, and there was nothing more gratifying than riding Mycroft to orgasm with his head lulled back on the back of the chair, and his long fingers gripping the armchair tightly. The bed was flanked on either side with antique side tables, which each held a lamp, a notepad and a place to plug in a phone.

The newly divorced Detective Inspector mused about how the sheets that were on their bed were nicer than the ones that were in the hotel that he went to on his honeymoon. But he tried not to think about it too much as he climbed back into bed. Some things were just different with Mycroft Holmes. He had no choice but to be used to it. “Is everything okay?”

“Quite. Actually, better than I could have ever expected. This is why I wish to ask you to move in with me.” Mycroft was back in bed as well, lying on his side, facing the door to the en suite, and Greg that he had gotten back in bed. The blankets and sheets were resting just above his hips, and Greg was tempted to get lost in the alabaster skin and ignore what Mycroft had said completely.

“I..can...I don’t think I can afford to buy a place right now.” It was true. The flat that Greg had no was about all he could afford, with his bills and child support that he had to pay his wife every month. It was a really reasonable amount, and it wasn’t too much of a strain, but it was still making things a bit rough. And there was no way that he had enough money to help buy furniture that Mycroft would approve of. Greg’s head was instantly swimming with all the possibilities of how he could fall short so soon in his relationship so soon, and buried his head into his (Mycroft’s) pillow.

“No, no. I’m asking you to move in here. I think it would be too disruptive for us both to find a new place and consolidate our belongings.” Mycroft had sit up at this point, with pillows propped up against his slender back. His fingers were twined together and the tapped out a nonsensical beat. Greg knew when he saw the motions that Mycroft was uncomfortable with the conversation to start with. Holmes’ didn’t fidget unless they were extremely uncomfortable.

“So then just I would have to go through my things and disrupt my life?” Greg’s voice was biting and angry all of a sudden. None of the concern that had been there only seconds ago remained. “I’m pretty sure I just did that when my ex-wife kicked me out of the house that I raised my Daughter in.”

“Gregory, I think you’re overreacting a bit. I merely meant that my home is more suited for cohabitation than you flat would be. I don’t not realize that I was asking you to disrupt your life. You spend most of your nights here regardless. If you’re not interested though…”Mycroft let his sentence drag off while he got out of bed and walked over to his bureau to get dressed. He kept his back to Greg in an obvious gesture of anger. Childish anger if you asked Greg Lestrade, but no one ever did.

“Can I have some time to think about it, Myc?” Greg hauled himself out of bed and went to the closet where he kept a change of clothes. He examined the small pile of clothes and sighed heavily. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow? Apparently I don’t have a clean one here.”

“I don’t think I have one that goes with your jacket, so you will have to go without. But perhaps I can suggest a waistcoat to match with it? Also, I know I’ve mentioned this before, and I know that you remember, please do not shorten my name.” He handed Greg a blue waistcoat that would match his pants, and a lovely ivory shirt, with cuffs undone, waiting for a smart pair of cufflinks. He didn’t mention moving in any further, and he didn’t look for more than a few seconds at any part of his lover.

Greg got dressed slowly and methodically, always more careful with Mycroft’s clothes than he was with his own. He hated to admit it, and never would to Mycroft, but he liked the way he looked in a waistcoat. It gave him a bit of class that he knew he didn’t have on his own. Once he was fully dressed save for the cufflinks, he walked over to where Mycroft was standing and held out his wrists. Cue feeling like a child again. The younger man carefully fastened the French cuffs with Onyx cufflinks emblazoned with ivory MH’s on the face. “Can I have a few days to think about moving in, Mycroft? It was just a shock to the system.”

“Take whatever you will, Gregory.” Mycroft said, before leaving the room to go to his study, without so much as a goodbye or a kiss. That statement hung in the air, with an awkward double meaning that Mycroft must have meant. He never said anything he didn’t mean. Greg just stood there, wondering for a moment what he had done that was so terrible. Sure he was taken aback by Mycroft’s request, but they really needed to work on their communication skills.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is this about moving in? Because I’ve been thinking…” Greg had obviously planned to continue with an explanation of what he had been thinking, or even give an answer, but Mycroft cut him off instead.
> 
> “If you don’t want to move in, please don’t feel obligated. I was feeling sentimental and didn’t mean to surprise you.” Mycroft took a second very ungentlemanly chug of wine in lieu of breathing.

It was a few days later when the two of them managed to get their schedules to align, and they had not talked much in that time. Greg was still nursing his wounded pride about the idea of being a kept man. Could he live in a giant house paid for by another man? Did he even have a choice? It’s not like Mycroft was ever going to stop making money, and Greg wanted to be with Mycroft.

Mycroft was having his own issues trying to reconcile how it could be a bad thing that he cared so much about Greg that he wanted to provide for him. Luckily, he had been mostly too busy to dwell on the man he cared about more than anyone else in the world, avoiding eye contact and picking at the rice bowl that Greg had prepared for him. They had agreed on Greg’s place at the older man’s insistence. Mycroft had no problem with this, but generally that meant that Mycroft didn’t spend the night. Mycroft wanted to spend the night, Greg never asked.

“Do you not like it, Mycroft?” Greg looked up from his own meal with concerned eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

“It’s lovely, Gregory, just not feeling especially hungry.” Mycroft sighed and put his fork down, picking up his glass of wine and taking a long sip instead.

“Is this about moving in? Because I’ve been thinking…” Greg had obviously planned to continue with an explanation of what he had been thinking, or even give an answer, but Mycroft cut him off instead.

“If you don’t want to move in, please don’t feel obligated. I was feeling sentimental and didn’t mean to surprise you.”  Mycroft took a second very ungentlemanly chug of wine in lieu of breathing.

“Mycroft, you git. If you would have let me finish my fucking sentence I would have told you that I’ve been thinking about what you asked, and as long as I can bring what’s important to me, and my daughter can have a room somewhere, then I would love to move in. But only if you let me contribute monetarily.” Greg was plainly anxious looking about the conversation and appeared to be playing chess with the bits of beef that were drenched in teriyaki sauce and nestled on top of the rice.

“Gregory, I would love to have you in our home full time, and I would love for your daughter to stay with us. But there is no need for you to contribute. I own the house outright and everything else is paid for by Whitehall.” Mycroft reached across the table and softly ran the tips of his long fingers over Greg’s hand. Greg flexed the muscles in frustration, but didn’t pull away.

“Mycroft! I’m not poor! I make a wage. I can contribute to food? Or to dry cleaning?” Greg was beginning to raise his voice, getting more and more upset. Not that he didn’t enjoy the idea of having no bills, but he wasn’t helpless and he could take care of his own needs.

“If it will satisfy you, I can accept a small amount of money for your half of the laundry service. And I have a room that you can make into your…man cave.” Mycroft scrunched his eyebrows together, completely unsure of the phrasing, or really what it even entailed.

“That would be lovely Mycroft. Thank you. That way my things won’t sully yours. There are a few things I’ll want in our room. And clothes, of course.” It was uncanny how much more relaxed and younger his face now looked that they had agreed on something that was at least a workable starting point.

“I love you, Greg.”

“I…love you too, Mycroft.”

The first time they said I love you certainly wasn’t what either of them had envisioned, but it was certainly what they needed to each be sure that what they were doing was the right choice. They never really said it as often as they should, but they always meant it.

 

 

 

Greg and Mycroft were sitting on the floor in the TV room of the Detective Inspector’s flat, piles of knick knacks and personal items strewn about them. Next to the piles there were packing boxes. Greg had a beer in his hand and Mycroft had a tall glass of water on a coaster, perched on the edge of a nearby coffee table. He was dressed as casually as Greg had ever seen, in black socks, tweed dress pants and a white dress shirt with ivory buttons and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Greg found it hard to concentrate with all that skin on display.

They had been cataloguing things all day, and were definitely nearing the end of their usefulness. Greg had proven game to discard anything that he had deemed not important enough to take to his new home, and Mycroft had been gracious enough to allow him to make all the decisions. The younger man was working very hard on making this transition as easy as he could for his lover. Greg had been right; he was having to make all the changes. All Mycroft had to do was unlock one of the locked rooms in his home and, as a gift to Greg, had purchased a brand new 60 inch HDTV. Greg didn’t know about it yet, and he hoped he would be excited, not upset for some reason. He had learned by now that Greg had a lot of pride when it came to possessions, and didn’t like to be provided for.

“Mycroft, you look like you’re about to tip over into that box. Do you want to go to bed?” The sun had gone down several hours ago and Greg wasn’t afraid to admit that although this wasn’t physically taxing, it certainly was exhausting. He picked up a small metal box with engraving on it, and he immediately regretted it.

Mycroft saw the look on his face and reached for the box, his nimble fingers extracting it from his partner’s. “Do you want me to open this?”

Greg didn’t say anything, momentarily stunned, but nodded. He supposed that this was a conversation he should have with Mycroft, as it was always something that they avoided to prevent awkwardness. Mycroft opened the ornate metal box, which had two sets of initials, one being GL, and a date July 6th, 1999. He upended the box and four rings fell out. Two were newer than the others, and obviously a woman’s set. Mycroft would have guessed the engagement ring was about 1 carat, with smaller diamonds across the band of that one as well as the wedding band. These were clearly his ex-wife’s rings.

“I don’t know why I keep them. In my living room, no less. I just can’t…” Greg’s voice broke in an emotion he had been holding in for two years, since he had walked in on her in their bed having sex with another man. Not even a younger, more attractive man. Just a different bloke, ploughing his wife with a small prick, and grubby hands palming her breasts. She should have been repulsed, or at least bored, but she was reacting like it was the best lay of her life. That’s how he had known there was no saving the marriage. That it had been lost for a long time.

“It was a big part of your life, Gregory.” Mycroft didn’t particularly care about the woman’s rings. The woman didn’t deserve anything, and he was glad Greg had gotten them back. But the two men’s wedding bands were the ones that drew his eye. One was clearly quite old, but well maintained, and was molded from rose gold. The second was newer and more abused. There were nicks and scratches all over the white gold band.

“A big part of what ruined the last few years of my life. The only thing that saved me is you. I have been so lucky.” Tears were welling up in Greg’s eyes and he crawled over the piles of stuff and climbed directly into Mycroft’s lap, like a small child to his father. Greg had not opened up about this to anyone. It was his shame to deal with. He ruined his relationship. He worked too much. He was hard to talk to.

“Gregory, I think you overestimate my influence on your life. But I love you. And she did too, when you exchanged these rings.” Mycroft put down the box with the woman’s rings in it and wrapped his arms around Greg’s slightly shaking form. “Were both of these yours?”

“The white gold one was mine. The rose gold one was my father’s. I used to wear it on my other hand. Like you do. When my marriage failed, I didn’t feel like I deserved it anymore.” Greg rested his face on Mycroft’s shoulder. He was taking deep breaths, trying to calm down and it was only sort of working.

“Your father would be very proud of the man you are, whether your marriage fell apart or not. They are lovely rings. It’s a shame they stay locked in this box.” Mycroft wasn’t quite sure what he was getting at, and neither was Greg, but neither mentioned it. Instead, they just sat there wrapped around each other for a long time.

Finally, Mycroft broke the silence. “I have something I’d like to give you, if you’d be okay with it.”

“As long as it’s not a ring, I’m sure it will be fine.” Greg untangled himself from Mycroft and stood up, but didn’t where to go. So he just stood there, bone straight while he watched Mycroft struggle slightly to get up, then go to where he had carefully laid his briefcase. He extracted a small box about the size of a computer mouse and passed it to Greg.

“I saw this a few weeks ago, and I thought it would be perfect for you,” Mycroft said softly, suddenly unable to make eye contact with Greg. When Greg looked down and saw the box emblazoned with the five pronged gold crown that signified a Rolex, he thought he might choke. Then he opened the box and decided that passing out might have been a better choice.

It was a gorgeous white gold wrist watch with roman numerals and a white face. He would later find out that it came from the Sky Dweller series, and that its retail was likely more than a full year’s wage. He took it more carefully out of the box then he had his daughter out of his wife’s arms day she was born, and it turned it over. There was an inscription in cursive, which read ‘Always, MH’.

“Can we go to bed please, Mycroft? This night is looking up suddenly, and I want to look up and see you.” Greg snickered at the innuendo laden comment.

“Must you, Gregory? This was a beautiful moment and now you’ve sullied it by being cheeky.” Mycroft snickered and took his hand anyways, pulling him towards Greg’s small bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Gregory,
> 
> Welcome home. I have taken the liberty to subscribe to every TV channel available. Hopefully that will be sufficient for your needs.
> 
> Fondly,
> 
> Mycroft Holmes”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't make this ending/chapter sad. not knowing what is coming next.
> 
> Comments/Critique always welcome! <3

Greg was for once grateful that Mycroft had a seemingly unending amount of people at his beck and call once all 18 boxes were full of the things that he had carefully chosen and rechosen. They were picked up at his flat and moved to Mycroft’s (no, their) house. He was struggling to grasp the co-ownership, even as he scrawled his Anglo-French name next to his partners’ on the ownership papers. Greg had tried to talk Mycroft out of that part, but the younger man had insisted on them being equals.

The Detective Inspector was in awe when he came home on a mediocre Wednesday, walked in the front door of their home (he was still struggling with that) and saw the photo of he and Mycroft that had been taken the year before at a Christmas dinner, which had always sat on his bedside table in his old flat, now hung on the wall and greeted everyone who walked through the door.

Something inside Greg swelled a bit too big, and suddenly he knew that he had made the right decision, moving in with this ridiculously posh government official, who works 19 hours a day but spends three of those in bed on his laptop with Greg curled up next to him, so that he isn’t alone at night. He knew they both had made a lot of compromises, and that’s what made it work.

Greg was also blown away when he had walked into his man cave room and saw a giant, state of the art flat screen TV hanging in front of the leather sofa that he had splurged on with the money he had made on the flat. He knew immediately that it was a gift from Mycroft, but even if he hadn’t there was a note stuck to the wall next to where it was mounted.

“Gregory,

Welcome home. I have taken the liberty to subscribe to every TV channel available. Hopefully that will be sufficient for your needs.

Fondly,

Mycroft Holmes”

Greg laughed out loud, causing the sound to echo through the empty house. He had just moved in with the man, and they spend every night in bed together, and his lover still signed notes with his full name. And in perfect handwriting, no less. What a loon he was in love with. But Greg knew he wouldn’t change Mycroft for anything in the world. Part of knowing that the relationship was working was changing some things, but not everything.

“Mycroft? Are you here?” Greg called out. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and snorted at the message.

_Use the intercom. – MH_

_Sod the intercom. Come watch TV with me. – GL_

_I am working. – MH_

_Your computer is fancy and can be moved from room to room! Bring it here and spend some time with your simpleton boyfriend! – GL_

_Very well. Wouldn’t want him to be too bored. – MH_

Greg put the phone back in his pocket and sat down on his couch. Having second thoughts, he got back up, took his jacket off and set his phone on the coffee table. He first loosened and then removed his tie, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. He took off his shoes, and reached down carefully to take off his socks. Finally satisfied that he was comfortable enough, he sat back down and put his feet up on that same coffee table where he had just put his phone.

Mycroft shuffled in a few moments later, and Greg couldn’t believe his eyes. His mouth hung open as Mycroft stood before him with laptop in hand. But he was wearing clothes Greg had never imagined he would wear. Mycroft was standing in bare feet, long and sensuous. He sported black lounge pants made apparently from jersey cotton, and he had one of Greg’s hooded sweatshirts on as well, with the Arsenal football logo emblazoned on the front. Greg was sure he had never been so quickly turned on his life. “That my sweater?”

Instantly, Mycroft’s face fell and he put his laptop down onto the table and began to pull at the sleeves hurriedly. “I’m sorry. I thought you might like it…I do.”

Greg halted Mycroft’s words and motions by wrapping his arms around the taller man and kissing his lover until they were both breathless. Greg pulled back, not moving his arms, only his head. “Wear my clothes always. It is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. They look better on you than they ever did on me.”

“Oh…good.” Mycroft smiled and kissed Greg again softly the second time. If he was honest with Greg, he would have told him he’d had a terrible day and when he got home Greg hadn’t been there and all he had wanted was a hug. The sweater that Greg wore around the house on damp days was the second best option. It was sickeningly sentimental. However, he wasn’t prepared to tell Greg anything that would show his hand so completely.

Greg smiled against the younger man’s lips and pulled away, sitting down on the couch and reaching for the remote to turn on the TV. He quietly on Eastenders and once Mycroft had sat down, he snuggled up to his side, and pulled his feet up behind him. Mycroft smiled and began typing furiously on his laptop, leaning into Greg’s weight. “Thank you for the TV, Myc.”

“You’re welcome, Gregory. I hoped you wouldn’t be upset about such an extravagant gift.” Mycroft said quietly, without moving his eyes from the screen. When Greg first started spending time with Mycroft while he was working, he had thought Mycroft wasn’t paying attention to him. But soon enough he had learned that Mycroft was just smart enough to do a lot of things at the same time. It was unnerving.

“Maybe I’m getting used to extravagant gifts.” Greg’s voice sounded a bit far away as he looked down at the Rolex around his wrist. He couldn’t help but smile. He was in good hands with his posh government employee boyfriend taking care of him. A happy sigh escaped the Detective Inspector’s slightly chapped lips.

“I’m so very glad. It makes my life much easier.” Mycroft smiled a tight smile and closed his eyes briefly.


End file.
